


So Good, So Good, So Real

by wrackwonder



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 11:49:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14748300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrackwonder/pseuds/wrackwonder
Summary: Sara deals with a stowaway on her ship. A most welcome stowaway. NSFW





	So Good, So Good, So Real

Sara knew she was dreaming. She could see her father, clear as day, standing in the middle of an empty room. He was smiling, softly, and the room was so bright, blindingly lit with the sun and the sky and the hazy, golden stuff of dreamscapes. But she was underwater, pushing, screaming, submerged, unable to do anything but flail. She could not see her hands, but she continued to reach, each scream filling her lungs with water and pain. Sara knew she was dreaming. Sara knew she was drowning.

 

“Captain Lance, I’m sorry to interrupt.”

 

Gideon’s voice tore through the murky darkness like a lightning strike, a shock to the system, and Sara reared up in her bed, gasping and clawing at her throat. She was soaked with sweat, her blonde hair dark, and the oxygen around her felt like too much, dizzying in its abundance.

 

“Captain Lance, are you quite alright?”

 

“Y-yes…Gideon, f…fine.”

 

Every word took effort, a pearl torn from her waterlogged lungs, but she managed to swing her legs over the side of the bed and toss her damp shirt on the floor.

 

“Well, if that is the case, I thought you should know that there seems to be a stowaway in the kitchen.”

 

“A stowaway?” Consciousness had its annoyances and Sara slowly stood up and stretched her aching body.

 

“Yes. As I said. In the kitchen.”

 

“And why couldn’t you wake up _any_ of the others?” Sara asked, finding a new white tank top to replace the ruined one. She was already reaching for the side arm she kept on her bedside table – she had no desire for elaborate acrobatics tonight, not with the image of her dad still fresh in her mind. She liked the weight of the gun in her hand; she liked its promise of swift justice.

 

“I believe it would be better if you handled this yourself.” Gideon’s decision to become a riddle master was also wearing thin. She just wanted to be alone, to sit in her room and drink from Rip’s supply of priceless scotch, and maybe toss some sharp objects at the wall just to watch them scratch the _Waverider_ ’s surface. Which wasn’t fair to the ship, not at all, but Sara’s dad was dead and Laurel was dead and Sara knew she herself was likely half-dead at all times anyway. A few scratches and stolen booze sounded like one hell of a good time.

 

But the _Waverider_ was oddly comforting, despite the circumstances, even as Sara crept along its suspiciously quiet corridors. Her footsteps were silent, but the cool metal felt so smooth against her fingertips as she dragged her hand against the wall. Maybe she should be on high alert or wake Rory just for the fun of it, but Gideon didn’t seem overly concerned. Still, Gideon’s sense of humour was questionable at the best of times…

 

Creeping around the corner, Sara leaned heavily against the wall, peering into the darkened galley. She had been ready for almost anything: pirates, the ghost of Rip Hunter, futuristic spacemen, but what she found instead was a pleasant surprise. There was, indeed, a stowaway on her ship, but the stowaway was sitting in the kitchen surrounded by what seemed like a massive array of ice cream. And the stowaway was unfairly cute, which made Sara smile despite the residual headache from her nightmare. But the look on her stowaway’s face, the pout, the worry lines, it broke Sara’s heart just a little bit, that heart that was permanently broken.

 

“Director Sharpe?”

 

Ava startled and dropped the spoon in her hand.

 

“Sara? I…oh crap, I’m sorry, I…”

 

“Broke onto my ship in the middle of the night?”

 

Sara pulled up a stool, set down her gun, and let herself look at the woman across the table. Ava was flustered and clearly embarrassed, but it was unfairly adorable and Sara let herself feel the unfamiliar warmth in her chest. It was so much better than the overwhelming darkness.

 

“I mean, yes? But…ugh…”

 

“Talk to me, Ava, what’s going on?” Sara reached for a spoon and eyeballed the forty pints of ice cream sitting on the table. Her dad was dead. She needed some peanut butter.

 

“It’s just…I was sitting in my apartment and I suddenly didn’t know if it was _my_ apartment? Did I sign the lease? Or did another version of me sign it? Is it my apartment at all?”

 

Sara nodded along and smiled as Ava brushed back the hair from her flushed face. She did that, a nervous tick, but Sara loved when Ava wore her hair down, it was unfairly luscious, and the best part was that Ava had no idea how beautiful she looked. How beautiful she was at all times.

 

“So I decided to start smaller, which is why ice cream seemed like a good idea? Like…I know my favourite ice cream is rocky road? But how do I _know_ know? So I went to the corner store but they only had four flavours to choose from and that’s not enough of a test sample so…”

 

“You used your time courier to sneak onto my ship?” Sara asked, unable to hide her grin.

 

“Yes?”

 

“And then you used this insanely expensive future tech to re-create every flavour of Ben and Jerry’s in the known universe?”

 

“I mean…yeah?”

 

“Genius.”

 

“Wait, you’re not mad?” Ava had picked up her spoon again and she was looking at Sara with such clear, open eyes. It made Sara want to forget the ice cream and push the Time Bureau’s director up against a wall.

 

“A beautiful woman _and_ ice cream? What more could a girl want?” It was supposed to sound smooth, suave, maybe even seductive, but Sara found herself genuinely shrugging along with her question. Her voice even caught a little and that made Ava frown and tilt her head.

 

“Sara are you okay?”

 

“Sure. Peachy. My dad died, but shit happens, right?”

 

“What?” Ava nearly tossed the spoon this time and reached for Sara’s hand. Her fingers were long and cool from holding a pint of ice cream and Sara loved how they felt against her skin.

 

“Long story,” she said.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

 

Sara squeezed Ava’s fingers and shook her head.

 

“Honestly, I’d rather concentrate on Project Ava.”

 

Ava looked unsure, forcing Sara to maintain eye contact for a beat, and it struck Sara that Ava was one of the most grown up, mature people she knew. If Sara wanted to talk, Ava would really listen, and that was terrifying and comforting all at the same time.

 

“Okay. But…I’m here, Sara.”

 

“Good. Now let’s get down to business. Cookie dough or caramel swirl?”

 

~*~

 

Sara Lance was death. Sara Lance was blood soaked. But Sara Lance was also happy despite the hole her father’s death had left in her chest and the unhealing wound Laurel’s death had caused in her heart. She was happy sitting in the galley with Ava, who was so impossibly real despite the fact that she was one of an infinite number of copies. Except that was impossible. There was only one Ava. _Her_ Ava. Who was currently gagging over a half-eaten spoonful of Cherry Garcia.

 

“Oh God, disgusting!” She said, pushing the offending pint away from her and Sara clapped with glee.

 

“Gideon, update the list!”

 

“Yes, Captain.”

 

“Oh, and Gideon? Make sure this file is classified.”

 

“You’re making a classified file about my likes and dislikes?” Ava asked incredulously.

 

“Do you really want Gary to know how much you love Celine Dion?” Sara smirked as Ava mumbled “jerk” under her breath.

 

“Captain Lance, would you like file 46239 to be password protected?”

 

“Sure, Gideon.”

 

“Password?”

 

The AI’s question hung in the air and Sara looked to Ava.

 

“Fembot,” she said. Sara winced.

 

“Fembot it is, Director Sharpe!” Gideon’s chipper voice made Sara wince again.

 

“Hey,” she said, reaching across the table to draw her thumb across Ava’s cheek. It was wet from a few stray tears that Ava furiously brushed away, dislodging Sara’s hand in the process.

 

“It’s what I am, isn’t it?” Ava continued brushing at her face and Sara knew it was time to put the ice-cream away. Ava’s question hung in the air between them and Sara wanted to say so much, but not in the galley, not with her crew who seemed constantly present. She didn’t want any interruptions. Ava deserved privacy; she deserved to keep her tears away from well-meaning, but prying eyes.

 

“Help me,” Sara began stacking pints of ice cream, tossing them as quickly as she could into the nearby freezer. Rory would have a breakfast buffet.

 

The two women made fast work of the mess until only two dirty spoons remained on the table.

 

“Should we wash those?” Ava asked, still sniffling.

 

“Nah, Ray loves to do that. Come here.” Sara reached out her hand and was relieved when Ava took it. They were still a little cautious with each other, still a little unsure. They’d made plans for drinks, but they hadn’t really _talked_ about what they were to each other. There was love there, but there was also so much complication. Except _this_? Holding hands while sneaking around on the ship? It felt so miraculously uncomplicated that Sara wanted to pause the moment.

 

Hand in hand they made there way through the quiet halls of the _Waverider_. Sara’s bare feet were cold, but she didn’t say a word as she led Ava towards her bedroom. The woman next to her was dressed casually, uncharacteristically so, and Sara marvelled that this was the first time she’d seen Ava in jeans and sneakers. Her white button-up was rolled to the elbows and unbuttoned slightly lower than Time Bureau standards and for the second time that night, Sara just let herself enjoy Ava Sharpe, enjoy how the woman made her feel.

 

It was such a welcome change. It was the first hint of light in the ashes.

 

~*~

 

“Gideon, no interruptions unless the ship is on fire. Lots of fire. Not accidental, playtime fire, got it?”

 

“Yes, Captain. Enjoy your evening.”

 

“Playtime fire?” Ava sat on Sara’s bed, eyes red-rimmed, but she seemed more relaxed than earlier. She looked good sitting there, right, and Sara remembered Ava’s note. Maybe that side of the bed really was reserved for Ava Sharpe?

 

“Do not ask.”

 

"You really are Peter Pan. With your lost boys..."

 

"Ugh, how dare you!" Sara tried to smile, but it came across as more of a grimace. 

 

“Sara, are you sure you’re all right? I feel selfish talking about myself when your dad has just…”

 

“I can’t talk about him yet, Ava.” It came out harsher than intended and Ava ducked her head down. Sara crossed the room and stood before the woman sitting on her bed. She reached for a loose strand of hair, tucking it behind Ava’s ear, and then tilted Ava’s face upwards so she could look at her.

 

“So… _fembot_? That word is banned on my ship,” she said, her smirk an apology for her earlier harsh tone.

 

“Sara, I don’t know what I am.” Ava’s eyes were watery, but so blue. Sara licked her lips.

 

“You’re Ava Sharpe. The woman I love.”

 

The face in her hands was suddenly gone. Ava leaned back against the bed, sprawling out over the messy covers.

 

“I don’t know what that means. I don’t know who Ava Sharpe is. I feel human, but I wasn’t born, I was _made_. I don’t know if I can age? I can feel pain and I can die, but are any of my memories real? And when do they start? I was never a teenager so all of that is false. So I don’t know how you can love whatever I am?”

 

Sara exhaled sharply. She knew loving a clone would be complicated, but this particular clone was too smart for her own good and her adorable neurotic tendencies were doing more harm than good.

 

“I can take you to 2213 right now. We can storm AVA Corp, get you answers?”

 

“I’ve thought about it. I guess I’m scared it could get worse.”

 

“Listen, we know Rip recruited you. And we know you’re the twelfth version he brought on board. But Rip is gone now,” Sara said, feeling that strange mixture of sadness and anger she felt whenever she thought of Rip. He was a friend. He had taught her a lot. But he was also responsible for the tears staining Ava’s face. If Rip ever managed to come back from the dead, Sara would have to kill him. He’d made her girl cry.

 

“And with him a lot of answers?” Ava turned on her side, darting her hand forward to play with a loose string on Sara’s shorts.

 

“Yeah, but it also means that you’re the final Ava. He’s not going to secretly replace you with someone else. And we can hook you into the _Waverider_ and run every test in the book, figure out your gene sequence, who you came from, all the medical stuff. Or we can go get you a ridiculous tattoo that only _you_ have if any other clones show up, but _you_ are you.”

 

Ava seemed to take that in, furrowing her brow.

 

“Lucky number twelve?” She asked and Sara could still sense her intense discomfort.

 

“Hey, lucky number twelve is my favourite Ava, okay?”

 

“How do you know it was me when we first met? Maybe I died in between missions and the Ava you met the first time was number eleven? Or number ten?” Ava pressed one hand to her forehead and even Sara was a little taken aback by that question. She’d really have to steal Ray’s copy of _Orphan Black_.

 

“You are much less of a jerk now so I guess it’s possible?”

 

Sara knew Ava was going to lunge for her ten seconds before it happened, but she let the woman beside her tackle her. They tossed and turned on the bed, giggling as Ava grasped Sara’s biceps and Sara dug her fingers into Ava’s shoulders. It was the most they’d touched since the breakup. The closest they’d been since Ava stepped away and Sara couldn’t believe she was smiling despite the omnipresent ache in her stomach.

 

She let Ava feel like she was winning, let her push down so that Sara was pressed flat against the mattress, and then, when Sara sensed her opponent was feeling confident in victory, she turned them, straddling Ava’s hips and pressing her hands up so Ava was forced to lie flat on her back, her face flushed with more than just exertion.

 

“We actually know a lot about you,” Sara said, raising one eyebrow as Ava settled underneath her.

 

“Oh?”

 

“You’re a cat person,” Sara began and Ava nodded.

 

“Way more practical than dogs.”

 

“And you really do prefer rocky road.” Sara’s grip on Ava’s hands loosened and she reared up. Ava took her newfound freedom to stroke Sara’s thighs, one thumb moving dangerous close to the hem of Sara’s black shorts.

 

“You’re good with a gun, even better with a sword,” Sara continued while Ava appeared to be listening intently.

 

“You like rules and order. You like to be in charge.”

 

The hands on Sara’s thighs stilled.

 

“Not all the time,” Ava said, “not in all situations.”

 

Sara pursed her lips and inhaled. Ava Sharpe could switch from neurotic control freak to wanton temptress far too quickly for her liking.

 

“How do you do it?” Ava’s question broke Sara’s very naughty train of thought.

 

“Do what?”

 

“Compartmentalize everything. I try, but it’s like my head won’t shut up sometimes.”

 

Sara circled Ava’s wrists, softly stroking her finger up strong forearms.

 

“Scotch helps. Killing people. Meaningless sex.”

 

“Meaningless?” Ava dropped eye contact and instead continued rubbing circles with her thumbs on Sara’s thighs.

 

“Doesn’t have to be meaningless.”

 

“I’m not sure I’m capable of meaningless.”

 

This time Ava looked up and Sara met her gaze. They were treading on delicate territory, but Sara had no time for awkwardness or subtlety. There had been too much loss, so much loss, and time was a slippery, twisted thing. She wasn’t about to waste it.

 

“With you it could never be meaningless,” she said, letting Ava process her words for a second.

 

“But…is that something you want? With just one…person?”

 

Sara heard the unasked questions in Ava’s response.

 

“I think I’ve made my intentions quite clear when it comes to you, Ms. Sharpe.”

 

The metaphorical ball rolled back towards Ava. Sara imagined she could see it, slowly but surly landing somewhere in that confused, but hopeful expression on Ava’s face.

 

“There are some other things I know I like,” Ava said, biting her lip.

 

“Oh?”

 

Ava plucked at the bottom of Sara’s white tank top.

 

“I like when you’re not wearing anything at all.”

 

It wasn’t the clearest answer to Sara’s words, but there was no doubt about what Ava was asking for and Sara was only too happy to oblige, barely pausing before stripping off her shirt and dropping it on the floor.

 

Ava took her time looking at Sara’s body, her hands following the trail of her eyes. She traced the line of a scar on Sara’s torso and then flattened both hands against Sara’s shoulders.

 

“I like these,” Ava said.

 

“My shoulders?”

 

“Freckles. And shoulders.”

 

The hands drifted, squeezing Sara’s biceps.

 

“I really like these,” Ava whispered. Sara flexed her arms in response.

 

“And these.” Two hands cupped Sara’s breasts and Sara gasped just a little at the sudden touch. Ava’s hands were bigger than hers and Sara fit so perfectly in Ava’s palms, it almost made her believe in destiny or fate. _Almost_.

 

It was hard to concentrate with Ava’s hands on her chest, but Sara made quick work of the white button-up covering Ava’s body. She loved the lines of this woman, the curve of her hip, the softness and the muscle, she loved all the contradictions that were Ava Sharpe.

 

“Sara?” Ava’s voice was low and gravelly.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I really, really like when you kiss me.”

 

Ava’s lips were full and warm and Sara couldn’t help but nibble on them, tracing her tongue against them as Ava bucked her hips. She kissed her harshly, an _I miss you kiss_ , an _I see you kiss_ , an _I love you kiss_ , and Ava responded in kind, burying her fingers in Sara’s hair to pull her down even closer.

 

“I want you,” Sara growled against Ava’s mouth and the nod in response earned another kiss, another wet exchange of teeth and tongues. There was no time to fully undress, Sara didn’t want to waste a second away from Ava’s body, so she reached down between them, popped the button on Ava’s jeans, and pressed in, smiling to herself at the hot wetness.

 

Ava hissed, arching herself against the mattress and Sara couldn’t help but lean down again to suck on the long, graceful lines of Ava’s throat. She didn’t except the sharp fingers against her shoulder to move, nor did she quite know what to do when they pushed into the elastic waistband of her shorts and cupped her. It was Sara’s turn to hiss against Ava’s neck.

 

The space was tight and too hot, but neither woman stopped their movements. They were each getting something from this, something important that couldn’t quite be put into words. Each stroke of Ava’s fingers made Sara forget that her world had dimmed, that the sky had fallen ever so slightly. And she could feel how Ava reacted to her touch, feel the worry and fear temporarily fade as it was replaced by want and lust and trust.

 

Sara buried her face between Ava’s breasts, biting the skin she found there as she balanced herself on her knees, one on either side of Ava’s hips. Her muscles screamed at the awkward position, but Ava felt so good against her, the sweat on her chest and the silk against her fingers. She let herself feel Ava, listen to her, and Sara practically purred as Ava tugged at her hair with a free hand.

 

They were both sweaty and spent when Ava suddenly hooked one leg around Sara’s hip, locking her in and Sara felt Ava come undone against her palm. She let herself follow, rolling her hips twice, letting Ava’s fingers swirl against her clit and then she too unravelled, gasping for air and moaning and blindly kissing the woman beneath her, a cheek, a chin, lips, open, gasping lips…

 

Somehow they landed side by side, Sara on the right, Ava on the left, half-dressed, and breathing heavily, both lost in thought or pleasure or pain. Sara reached out first, curling her fingers around Ava’s hand.

 

“Not meaningless,” she said, pulling Ava’s fingers to her mouth so she could bite down gently on a knuckle.

 

“No?”

 

“No.”

 

“Sara?” Ava looked so right sprawled out in Sara’s bed, she felt so right, Sara didn’t want her to ever move.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I’m still a clone.”

 

“And I’m still death. Scared?”

 

Ava shuffled closer to Sara. They were nearly nose-to-nose.

 

“No. You?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Okay,” Ava said, pushing herself up on one elbow so she could look down at Sara’s face.

 

“Okay?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I love you,” Sara knew it was risky, she knew Ava was still fragile, but again, she knew time better than most. The moment could slip away so easily.

 

“Scared?’ She asked and Ava nodded slowly.

 

“Only because I love you too. Scared?”

 

“Terrified,” Sara said honestly. Ava squeezed Sara’s hand and Sara squeezed back.

 

“Can we just stay here for a bit?” Ava let go of Sara’s hand and slipped her palm against Sara’s chest, just below her throat. It seemed to comfort them both. It felt grounding for Sara, it kept her present, and she wondered when Ava had become that person, when she had allowed Ava to worm her way into whatever fortress Sara had designed for her own protection.

 

“Whatever my girlfriend likes, she gets,” Sara said, pleased to see Ava blush at the word “girlfriend.”

 

“I would like that very much.”

 

“Good. We’ll add it to the list.” Sara leaned up to kiss Ava, softly, chastely, and it settled them both.

 

They lay next to each other, not sleeping, but fighting off the darkness of their own thoughts. Except Ava’s hand was on Sara’s chest and Sara’s fingers traced the line of Ava’s cheek and it was enough to make the world less gloomy, it was enough to make them both feel like light could shine through the cracks. It was enough. It was so much more than enough.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading my first foray into the world of Avalance!
> 
> If you like what you've read, or have any thoughts, PLEASE leave a comment! It only takes a second and it really is the greatest encouragement to keep writing. I cherish each and every comment from you and appreciate the time you take to read my work and tell me your thoughts.
> 
> As always, come hang out with me on twitter: @wrackwonder


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